


The Boy with the Bandana on his Wrist

by Hawkguys_and_Coffee



Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Autistic Orpheus, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Eurydice needs a hug, F/M, Hades and persephone need to get theier shit together, Hermese is swag (what else is new), I started thisin January of 2020, More like bittersweet, Orpheus is the best boi, Orpheus needs a hug, Orpheus's childhood and backstory, Sad with a Happy Ending, Well - Freeform, calliope is underrated, my spacebar broke while writing this so sorry for typos, no beta we die like men, this took me too long to write, told thru the eyes of other characters, unfortunatley its
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:02:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23980513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkguys_and_Coffee/pseuds/Hawkguys_and_Coffee
Summary: On the road to hell there was a railroad station.And a poor boy working ona song.His mama was a friend of mine,and this boy was a muse's son,on the road to hell on the railroad line.Give it up: for Orpheus!-Hermes, "Road to Hell"Or: The story of Orpheus from the quiet beginnings to the dismal end.
Relationships: Eurydice/Orpheus (Hadestown), Hades/Persephone (Hadestown), Hermes & Orpheus (Hadestown), Hermes & Persephone (Hadestown), Orpheus & Calliope (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how you just sometimes pour your entire heart and soul into writing something? This was me writing this.
> 
> So, I've been reading some other Orpheus backstory fics for a while and got inspired. Unlike some that I've read (not trying to diss them, cause they're all brilliant) but I like to think that Calliope was gentle and kind and loved Orpheus with all her heart. Plus the lines "His mama was a friend of mine" leads me to believe that Hermes chooses his friends wisely and wouldn't befriend Calliope if she had abandoned her child without reason.
> 
> Ngl, I was a little hesitant to write Orpheus as autistic in fear of getting things incorrect. After some thinking I decided to incorporate it into the story because I like to think of it as canon after watching the show. Kindly keep in mind that I am no expert on this topic and please, if I get anything wrong, politely say so and I will be greatly thankful. :)

Hermes met Orpheus for the first time when the boy was four years old. The child was a peculiar little thing, full of energy and a certain type of wonder that only remained in the young. With his round cheeks and his hazel eyes, the little boy found a special place in Hermes’s heart the minute he laid eyes on him.

Orpheus and his mother had arrived at the bar one night while rain fell in thunderous torrents not unlike the sound of pounding feet. The shutters slapped against the walls of the building and, no matter how hard Hermes tried, the interior was still drafty. 

The woman almost stumbled through the entrance, her brown hair whipping across her face. A red bandana tied most of her hair back and kept out some of the snow. She was quite young despite having two children of thirteen moved on. The woman couldn’t have been older than thirty the day she led a little boy into the bar in tow.

Hermes had seen her around the bar previously. The woman’s name was Calliope, and she often played with the band for a pretty penny to get by for the winter. Her music was enchanting and enthusiastic, just what they needed in times like these. She was a muse, after all.

“Well look at what the cat dragged in,” Hermes grinned, throwing his dishrag on the counter to greet the pair. 

Calliope gave a tired smile. “Hello Hermes. Mind if we stay for a bit? It’s pouring buckets and the roof still isn’t fixed. Got caught up at the market and this is closer than home.”

“Sure thing, sure thing,” He nodded, knowing how far the mother and son lived from the outskirts of town. Winters had been going on longer and fiercer for more than a lifetime, and it was all the people could do not to starve. Calliope was one of the unlucky ones, a single mother who was the only source of income. She worked hard and honestly, but even then that wasn’t always enough to get by.

“Thanks,” She replied, moving over to the bar and sitting with a sigh. It was at that moment that Hermes noticed the small little boy hiding behind Calliope’s leg.

“And what do we have here?” He murmured, kneeling to the child’s height. He was a small and lean, though that wasn’t uncommon in children these days. Bright eyes shone from behind his choppy haircut.

“This is Orpheus. Say hi, sweetie,” Calliope said, tugging gently on her son’s hand. The boy just buried his head into his mother’s leg. “He’s a shy little one. Always in his own little world.”

Hermes nodded and dusted off his pants as he stood up. “Can I get you something to drink? It sure is a long walk to get here.”

“That would be wonderful.”

And so he set to work, putting on a pot of water in the back room. There were no stoves in the front where the patrons got served. As he waited, Hermes tidied up the small kitchen and put away a tin cups from earlier. Once done, he leaned on the doorframe and peaked into the bar to see how things were going with the two guests.

Orpheus was seated on a chair against the wall, his keen eyes focused as he watched his mother work. His legs were swinging back and forth and he was tapping the edge of the seat to the rhythm of her melodious humming. After a few moments the little boy padded up to his mother and said something to her that Hermes couldn’t quite hear.

Calliope let out a little laugh before holding Orpheus’s hands and smiling. “You know what?” She asked, swinging his hands back and forth playfully.

“What?” Her son asked in a small voice.

“Gotcha!” Calliope kissed Orpheus on the nose and he giggled. “Now go back to where you were sitting. I’m sure Mr. Hermes will have some tea for us in no time.”

She went back to clearing the tables and stacking chairs. There was something graceful and otherworldly about the young woman and the way she worked, lifting chairs and setting them down without a sound. Ethereal, some might say. Calliope hummed a simple tune as she worked and winked at her son, causing Orpheus to descend into a fit of giggles. He was a bright young boy, Hermes could tell. He would change the world someday.

Unhitching himself from the doorway, Hermes brought out a pair of steaming mugs, setting them on the counter and beckoning Calliope over. They talked, they laughed, they smiled. And, in that moment, all was well.

\--

Mother and son began to come to the bar frequently, to the point where Hermes automatically left a light on for them and a pot of tea on the stove after closing shop. Calliope was grateful for everything he had done to help them, and couldn’t nearly thank him enough. Times where hard, that much was true, but some things made them bearable. Little Orpheus was growing well, though he hadn’t quite gotten over his shyness just yet. Her friends called him a sweet boy, one that was too good for a harsh and miserable world like this one. Your boy won’t stay innocent and young forever, they would say. Calliope hated that she agreed.

\--

It was almost a year later when she began to feel a weakness settling deep into her bones- a weakness that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard she tried. Calliope knew she couldn’t afford to pay a visit to a doctor, so all thoughts on the matter where pushed away.

This winter was much harder than the last and she had to fight to stay on her feet during the long hours of work. She didn’t dare tell Hermes though, mostly out of sheer stubbornness. Her friend needn’t worry about her when he had his own matters at hand. Besides, she and Orpheus hadn’t been around at the bar for a week or two- Calliope simply couldn’t make the long walk along the railroad track anymore.

“Mama look!” Orpheus came running over, a bright grin on his face and something clutched in his little hand. He was five now, pure energy and chaos and love.

Calliope paused in her work. She was collecting firewood before the storm hit, lugging in large amounts that she knew wouldn’t last more than a month. It was hard work, since most of the wood she found was either too wet or already rotting. A small pile lay by the door, waiting to be chopped up into kindling. That would have to be done sooner than later.

“Watcha go there?” She asked, the ghost of a smile playing at her lips for the first time in weeks. Today was one of the calmer winter days were snow lay on the ground like a soft blanket and the wind was still in her ears. This was one of the days where, when the fire crackled and smoked from their small stove, the house seemed warm and welcoming.

Her son gently handed her a small, delicate flower the color of velvet. “I found it next to the railroad. It’s real pretty.”

“It sure is. They’re called winter blooms since they poke through the snow.” Calliope mused, tucking the flower behind her ear and poking him in the stomach playfully. Orpheus giggled.

“It looks like your bandana.”

She pulled out the flower. “You can have it then. I have enough red on me.” Tucking the flower behind his ear, she added, “There. Now we match.”

He grinned up at her, eyes bright and cheeks rosy. He was so full of hope, so full of happiness. So much like she had been, once upon a time.

“Guess what?” She said.

“What?”

“Gotcha.” Calliope scooped up her little boy (with only some struggle) and carried him into the house while he shrieked with laughter. A quick kiss on his nose followed.

It was their little tradition, now. Whenever she felt down or sad she’d kiss her son on the nose and remind herself how much he meant to her. He didn’t know it yet, but he was her world. He was her light in times of darkness, hope in times of despair. He was her little boy.

\--

A few months later, on a stormy night, Calliope made her decision. She lay in bed with the winds howling around her, Orpheus pressed to her side and sound asleep, nothing but the moon to keep her company. The woman fought back an onslaught of wracking coughs as not to wake her son. The sickness had gotten worse as food supplies dwindled and the stack of firewood shrunk. Most of the time she would give a sizeable amount of her rations to Orpheus in an attempt to keep him on his feet. She was so scared that he would waste away like her and sputter out before his prime. Calliope had been eighteen when she’d had to start worrying about keeping her children safe and protected.

There were no stars out that night. Not a single one. It wouldn’t have mattered much anyways, since the curtains were pulled tightly shut and the door was locked to keep out the howling winds. Still, the woman longed to see the twinkling beauties that lit up the skies in the summertime. Somehow she knew that she would never see them again. Not in this lifetime.

Though she and Orpheus were under all the blankets they owned, it did nothing to quell the shivers that ran down her spine and under sher skin. Calliope had been getting better up until two weeks ago, she really had been. Then the snowfall and the lighting came back.

It was unlike any winter she had ever faced in her life before. No matter how much wood she burned, how much rags she stuffed under the window frame, or how many blankets she’d managed to find, the cold always crept back in. It was like a phantom, slipping through walls and windows and settling so deep in your bones that you don’t even realize it’s there until it’s too late.

The sickness came soon after. Calliope, already weak at that point, had no defenses against it. Sickness was nothing compared to the cold. Day after day she’d try to take care of Orpheus only to find herself weaker that before. She could no longer lift him up for stretches of time (though he was becoming too old for it- nearly five and a half by the end of the month) and had to rest often when at work.

Calliope was worried she wouldn’t be able to care for Orpheus much longer. Her breath was visible in front of her, short and light. It seemed to be mocking her, saying she was almost out of time. They didn’t have enough wood to make it through the night, and coal, while it burned for longer, was much too pricy as it was imported directly from Hadestown.

Her gaze focused on her son. The dim moonlight cast soft shadows across his cheeks and the blanket rose the slightest bit with each breath. Calliope didn’t want to lose him to the sickness she knew she would succumb to any day now. She didn’t want to lose her baby boy.

No kiss on the nose or whisper of ‘Gotcha’ could help her now. She was doing what any mother would do to protect her child. Even if it meant that she’d never see him again.

\--

The following night, right after the sun went down, she and Orpheus bundled up in their warmest clothes and set off along the railroad track to Hermes’s bar. Calliope’s thoughts had whirled faster than the nightly storms, but, in the end, she decided that it must be done.

With nothing but her bandana to cover her head from falling snow, she watched as Orpheus laughed and balanced precariously on the railroad line. His cheeks where red from cold but he didn’t seem to mind. The oversized gray coat billowed around him like a great cape and Calliope smiled to herself. Her son was happy, and that was enough.

She found herself lagging behind the slightest bit as they continued to walk. The woman had to bite back a series coughs that threatened to burst through her thin frame. She had to stay okay for only a little while longer. Then she could sleep for the rest of forever.

Orpheus began to hum a simple tune under his breath as he walked. It was pretty like the summer grass and the bright sun. There were no lyrics, just melodies. He mustn’t have realized he was doing it because he continued to sing to himself even as he lost balanced, slipped, and had to jump up onto the railroad line once more.

“Where’d you get that tune, sweetie?” Calliope asked when he waited for her to catch up.

Orpheus bounced up and down on the balls of his feet to keep from freezing. His hands where stuffed deep into his pockets and his nose and tips of his ears shone red. “The trees told me,” He said as if it where the most obvious answer there was.

“The trees?”

“Uh-huh. They sing it in the summertime. I think it’s pretty.” He grabbed her hand and continued to balance on the track. Orpheus hummed the song a bit louder after that. Once, when he lost balance and slipped off the railroad line, Calliope noticed a singular red flower bloom in his footprint.

They reached the bar an hour or so later. Even though mother and son hadn’t visited for almost a month, a lantern still hung from the doorway. One of the rooms was still lit.

“Just one second,” Calliope murmured, reaching for Orpheus’s hand. The light of the bar was still in sight despite the fact that they were fifteen yards away. A sickening feeling was beginning to settle deep in her stomach, but she knew it had nothing to do with her illness. She shut her eyes and fought back the flow of tears she felt was inevitable.

“What’s wrong Mama?” Orpheus asked, eyes bright with worry.

Calliope looked at her boy. Her sweet, innocent, baby boy. “I-” She started, but no other words came out.

“Mama?” Her son asked, taking a step forward and looking up at her.

She swallowed back her tears and tucked a loose strand of hair behind Orpheus’s ear. “You’re going to have to stay with Mr. Hermes from now on.”

He furrowed his brow. “Why? Will you stay too?”

“No. Mama’s not feeling too well and I don’t want to get you sick too.” Tears where now flowing freely down her face. She knew in her bones that this would be their last time together.

“Will you come and visit?” Orpheus asked in a small voice.

Calliope knew what she was supposed to say. No, she couldn’t visit because she was moving to a place where he couldn’t follow. No, she wasn’t supposed to see him again for a long, long time, after he had lived out his life. But when she looked into his beautiful hazel eyes she couldn’t bring herself to say it.

“Yeah, baby. I’ll come visit.”

This time the coughing did come, forcing her to curl into herself. Harsh, gasping breathes escaped her lips and a fine spray of blood peppered her unmittened hand. The harsh, painful fire that had burned in her chest had been reduced to a set of steaming, waning coals. Still hot, if not duller. She knew her body had given up. After long last the wave receded and Calliope was able to look up.

The terrible, dark understanding shone in Orpheus’s youthful face. Without a moment’s hesitation he threw his arms around her neck and squeezed tightly. His arms were tugging at her hair, but she didn’t stop him. “I don’t want you to go, Mama. I don’t want you to go.”

“I know baby, I know,” She whispered hoarsely, rocking him back and forth, back and forth. Her pant knees where damp with snow and shivers ran down her spine but right now that didn’t matter in the slightest. “Thanatos has been calling my name for a while and I can’t say no anymore.”

“Why can’t I go with you?” Her son whispered into her neck.

Calliope pulled away and put her hands on his shoulders, wiping a tear from his cold cheek. “You can’t. You have your whole life to live out.” She paused then, and, with shaking hands, untied the bandana from her head. Brown hair tumbled down her back in soft rivulets, swaying in the midnight wind. “You keep this with you no matter what. Then we’ll always be together.” With that she tied it around his wrist gently.

Orpheus looked down at the bright red bandana with tears in his eyes. He was so little. So small compared to the cold, harsh world.

“And guess what?” Calliope asked, voice cracking on the last word as she drank in the vision of her little boy for the last time.

“What?”

“I’ve gotcha.” She kissed him on the nose and held out her hand. 

Together they walked up the front two steps of Hermes’s bar. Orpheus’ hands were restless, fluttering at his sides like butterflies. He often did this in times of distress, Calliope had noticed through the years. She placed a gentle hand on them to calm him down.

At the door, Calliope straightened Orpheus’s jacket and buttoned it up to his neck. “Now I want you to be nice to Mr. Hermes, you hear?” He shook his head and tried to speak but no words came out. His eyes were trained on the snow-covered floor and his dirty boots. 

“No I don’t want you to go. You can’t leave. You can’t go, you can’t leave. You can’tleave me, Mama. You can’t. You can’t-”

Calliope cut him off. “And don’t go running off to your little places, either. He wouldn’t want you to get lost. And-”

Her son cut her short by hugging her fiercely around her waist. Calliope froze for a moment, unable to fight back the wave of emotions that had hit her like a speeding train. Grief, fear, sorrow. Hope. With a shaking hand she ruffled Orpheus’s hair and smiled down at him. “And don’t forget that I love you very, very much. I’m not leaving you. Not really.”

The door opened and the two of them walked in. Pleasantries were exchanged, and Calliope pulled Hermes away to explain what she had to do. He was silent almost the entire time, nodding and watching her with his sharp brown eyes.

“Promise me,” Calliope said, a bout of coughs interrupting her sentence. She coughed for well over a minute then, with a gasping breath, added, “Promise me you’ll take care of my boy. He’s not like the other kids. He’s. . .” Whether it was because of grief or despair, she found herself unable to say it. Unable to say that he was touched, that he was different. People like that didn’t have the same chances as others in this world. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she was silent before finishing, “He’s my son.”

“Alright.” Hermes understood. He reached out for her and held her as she coughed and cried and murmured lost thoughts into his shoulder. It was a long while until she pulled away, eyes puffy and voice rough.

“Take care of my boy Hermes,” Calliope whispered.

The man nodded mournfully. “I will, sister. I will.”

Later that night she slipped away into the darkness, not caring much where she was going. The house was too far away and she was too weak so she settled against the rough stump of a tree deep in one wood or another. Calliope was tired, so very tired. 

As she lay her eyes to rest she spotted a bright red flower standing out against the snow. It was the color of music, the color of spring. It was the color of new life and letting go. She tried to reach for it but found herself unable to move any longer. With a faint smile, she thought of Orpheus and let herself to rest, the melody of his music carrying her spirit into the wind.

\--

It took Orpheus a long time to move on, Hermes realized. For months after the death of his mother, the boy would still ask for her when hurt and wait for her to come bring him home. Hermes didn’t have the heart to tell him that she was gone for good (whenever the topic was brought up Orpheus would shake his head furiously and bring his hands to his ears) so he decided to provide a distraction.

It was the first week of summer when Orpheus held a lyre for the first time.

He had recently turned six and the instrument seemed massive compared to his little body. The boy looked at it with wide eyes and took it hesitantly when Hermes gave it to him, a small smile showing on his face for the first time in months.

“What is it?” He asked.

Hermes grinned and plucked a string gently. A high twang sounded, and Orpheus blinked at it. “It’s called a lyre. Made it myself a few years back.” It hadn’t ever been played.

“Why can’t I play the aulos?” Of course he would ask that. Calliope would often play the aulos at the bar.

“Because your voice is too good to hide behind a flute.”

Orpheus shrugged. “I guess.”

Hermes lifted him up onto the counter and placed the boy’s hands where they belonged on the fretboard. Orpheus was small, but they could make do.

“Now,” He said, leaning over the child. “Your fingers go here and you hold it with your wrist bent. Your arm goes over there. . . I think you’ve got it.”

Orpheus’ brow was furrowed in concentration and Hermes had to fight back a chuckle. His legs were swinging back and forth below the counter, skimming the sides of Hermes’ pants. 

The boy strummed a chord and gasped. With stars in his eyes he did it again, looking up at Hermes. With one simple chord he seemed to brighten. The color in his cheeks were tinted the slightest bit and he stood up straighter. A new energy rippled through his body as a grin reached the corners of his eyes.

“You like it?” Hermes asked, a mischievous smile brightening his weathered features. 

Orpheus nodded vigorously then paused. “There’s only one problem. . .” He looked down at the bandana wrapped around his wrist. “This makes it hard to move. I don’t wanna take it off, Mr. Hermes. My mama-” He cut himself off. 

The man thought for a moment before taking Orpheus’ hand in his. Gently, he untied the bandana (ignoring the sound of discomfort from the boy) and retired it around Orpheus’ neck. It was loose and tattered on one end, but it worked. 

“That better?”

He paused, a hand reaching out to touch the red fabric subconsciously before going back to plucking out chords. “Yeah.”

The older man nodded approvingly. “There you go, see? The proper instrument for the son of a muse. Your mama would be mighty proud.”

Orpheus stopped strumming and looked back at Hermes with wide, open eyes. Flecks of green stood out against his otherwise hazel eyes creating the perfect image of youth. 

“You really think so?” The boy asked, nothing but serious. 

“Child, I know so.”

\--

Summer came, and with it the green goddess Persephone. Hermes had always been fond of her and her company, so he was pleased to see that she showed up (albeit a month late). With the sounds of summer, the bar filled up and patrons became lively once more. That was something that never ceased to amaze Hermes. People, despite the hardships of winter, always warmed up once the sun came back. They were pleasant, caring, and joyful even during the worst of times.

“I’m telling you Hermes,” Persephone laughed, “Coming to this bar is the highlight of the year. Plus, your wine is one of the best Up Top.”

The two of them where leaning on the counter, Persephone on the patron’s side and Hermes on the server’s. It had been nearly seven months since he had seen his sister, and Hermes had missed her dearly. Times weren’t like they used to be when they were young and free.

The goddess’s green dress stuck out against the dull fabrics of the regulars like a light in the night. It was one of her favorite colors, and Persephone was never seen without it. That was, as long as it was summer. The smile she wore on her lips were contagious and soon nearly everyone was joyful. The band played, people drank, and the hanging lights seemed all the brighter.

Hermes grinned into his drink. “I try to keep it up, sister. I’m not known as the best bar on this side of the country for nothing, I’ll tell you that.”

They laughed like old friends with no worries. Hermes knew how hard it was on Persephone to go Up Top then Down Below. The rumors of the troubles in her marriage didn’t exactly help much either. He knew that she loved her husband, he really did. But times had changed.

“So are you gonna explain to me why there’s a little boy runnin’ wild ‘round here?” She asked after a moment’s notice.

Hermes had been waiting for her to ask. Children were a rarity in the bar, seeing as it was no place for one to grow up. Bar fights were more than common and some shadier folk lurked around during the shadows winter. 

“The boy’s Orpheus. His mama left me to care for him last winter.” Hermes shook his head dismally. Calliope had been the best of them.

Persephone nodded gravely, swirled her wine, then let out a short laugh despite the mood.

“What?” Hermes asked.

“Oh, I just never pegged you as one for raising children.”

“He’s a good kid.” His gaze traveled over to where the boy was, plucking away a set of chords on his lyre. Orpheus was so focused that he didn’t notice anyone around him, a habit that Hermes had seen before. All around him the bar bustled moved, but they boy was in his own little world. “Gonna change the world one day, he is. Mark my words.”

Downing the last of her wine, Persephone too looked at the boy, a smile playing at her lips. “That he is brother. That he is.”

\--

“It’s time to get to bed Orpheus.”

The boy didn’t answer, instead focusing on his lyre.

“You’ve played the day away and it’s nearly eleven. Bed.”

No response.

“Orpheus.”

He shook his head.

“Orpheus.”

This time, he did look up. “Five more minutes,” The boy begged. “I’m nearly done with these chords.”

Hermes pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. This had been a repeating occurrence in the last few days and frankly, he was tired of it. Almost every night he’d have to practically pull Orpheus from his lyre and force him to sleep. It would result in a dangerous limbo of ‘five more minutes’ until an hour had passed. This night was no different.

Hermes knew that Orpheus wasn’t doing this to be annoying or to spite him. The boy just loved making music. Sometimes though, it really did get on his nerves.

“Orpheus, you’re seven years old. That’s old enough to know that when I say you need to get to bed, you need to get to bed. We’ve had this conversation before. You can play tomorrow, and I won’t stop you from doing so.” 

“I’m not tired,” He replied, desperately fighting back a yawn.

Hermes crossed his arms, a warning tone creeping into his voice. “Orpheus.”

Gradually, the boy stopped plucking out notes and looked up. He sighed and jumped off the bar stool.

“There you go. C’mon. Let’s get you into bed.” With one hand behind the boy’s back and another holding his lyre, Hermes guided him into the back room and into the little bed across from the window. The lyre was placed at its foot.

“Mr. Hermes?” Orpheus said, sitting up in bed. “Can you tell me a story?”

“What about?” He asked, taking a seat at the edge.

The child traced the meticulous stitches that danced across the old quilt. The blanket had once been Hermes’, back when nobody had a care in the world and times were good. 

Orpheus shrugged, saying, “I dunno.” Slowly, his eyes trailed over to the window across from him and beyond to the first snowfall of the year. It was a thin layer, barely three inches thick, but it still brought in the beginnings of a draft. It was only September. The window’s thin panes were fogged up on the edges, creating an illusion of a cloud. Orpheus sat staring for a moment before his attention gradually came back to Hermes. “Do you have a story about the seasons?”

“If I tell you the story do you promise to go to sleep?”

Orpheus nodded. 

“Alright then.” With a warm smile Hermes began to weave a tale of the great gods Persephone and Hades. Though they were common names, not many knew the love story behind them.

He began with telling of the young Persephone that was mothered by Demeter, the goddess of the harvest. The girl was a wild one, running barefoot and climbing trees to her heart’s content, much to the displeasure of her mother. She loved springtime and everything that came with it: the sun, the flowers, and the joy. It was where she belonged, with nature.

One day, though, she fell in love with Hades, king of the underworld. He lived Down Below, constructing an underground city in hopes of providing new lives for those who had given up. Hades found Persephone picking flowers in her mother’s garden and suddenly, he was only a man. They loved each other fiercely, and, one day, he asked her to come home with him.

Now, Persephone loved him dearly but Demeter didn’t think he’d be able to give her the proper kind of love. She said he was too busy building his empire and would never notice her.

The moment Persephone left with Hades to be wed, Demeter decided that while her daughter was gone, not a thing would grow on the earth. 

“And that’s why we have winter,” Orpheus interrupted.

Hermes nodded. “And that’s why we have winter.”

“But. . . why are the winters so long? Shouldn’t they be equal to summer?”

“I was just getting to that, child.”

Persephone and Hades decided that it would be best for her to spend six months up top, then six months Down Below. That way they could be together and still balance the seasons for the better of the people. 

Hermes paused, wondering how to explain the next part to someone so young. He didn’t know whether or not Orpheus would understand the woes of the real world. After a moment, he continued on.

Hades began to worry that Persephone wouldn’t come back every season so he worked harder on his town. He thought that if he gave her something to love in Hadestown, that she would stay with him. So he strung up lights and burned fires to make the town bright and warm.

“Now, during each season, I pick up Persephone at Hadestown to bring her here for summer and return her for winter.” Hermes finished, albeit quickly.

Orpheus looked up at him. “Mr. Hermes, has anyone ever walked out of Hadestown?”

He shook his head. “Not a soul.” It was unheard of, really. Once you entered Hadestown, you never came back. You worked, you built, you died. That was all; that was it.

“Well,” The boy said, a spark in his young eyes, “I’m gonna be the first.”

Hermes chuckled and ruffled his hair. “You can’t do that without getting any sleep, now can you?” Tucking in the corners of Orpheus’s sheets once he was settled, he added, “Get some rest. In the morning you can play your lyre.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Hermes.”

“Goodnight, Orpheus,” He murmured. On his way out he turned off the lamp, the only source of light now coming from the waning moon outside, glimmering like silver.

\--

By the time he was nine years old Orpheus started to write his own songs. Well, they were mostly an assortment of words with a single refraining line. When Hermes asked where he had gotten the tune, the boy would simply shrug and murmur a short, “I dunno. Just came to me.”

At ten he was known throughout town as ‘The Poet’. Orpheus took these words to heart, still writing more. But something was missing, Hermes could tell. He didn’t know what it was or how it could be fixed, but Orpheus continuously struggled to find the right endings to his songs. Sometimes the other kids would tease him for the way he acted so Orpheus would spend time with his lyre instead of going outside.

It got to the point where he’d stay up late trying to write tunes, switching the pencil between hands when one got tired of scribbling. And, like clockwork, he’d always come out empty-handed. Nothing seemed to fit, he’d admitted to Hermes one night by a stack of cross-written papers that were too messy for the man to make out. Nothing was working.

Each night Hermes would pat him on the shoulder, lead him to bed, and tell him to try again the next day. That tomorrow, he’d get it for sure. It took the boy ten years before he finally got it right.

\--

For the most part, Hermes found it to be quite an experience to raise a child. He’d hadn’t been in any sort of relationship in quite a number of years, but he found that Orpheus brought a spark of joy he hadn’t known had been missing. Sure, they had their disagreements and arguments. But they also had calm moments. Hermes, though he was never one for domesticity, loved Orpheus in his own way.

The boy was as soft and sweet as summer, even as he grew. Orpheus always had an eye for making the world a better place, and it showed in the way he lived. He’d always ask Hermes to keep the bar open a bit longer for those who had nowhere to call home. He’d play for free on weddings, celebrations, or birthdays. He’d always leave the light on during the night in case a weary traveler came by. And, one day, someone did.

\--

Hermes knew Orpheus was in love the moment the girl walked into the bar. It was a gloomy day in August with a light breeze and a temperature low enough for heavy jackets and furs. Persephone was supposed to have arrived nearly a month ago. Hermes hadn’t heard from her since last summer.

Patrons were packed into the bar, a steaming mug clasped in their hands and conversations slipping off their tongues. During the colder months spirits were seldom available and Hermes sold teas and coffees for ten cents a cup. It helped fight back the bitter cold and ward off the imminent gnaw of hunger that too many had to face each night.

Behind the bar Orpheus was toweling off used glasses and putting them on a rack to dry, though his movements were more hesitant than normal. He kept glancing over his shoulder, Hermes realized, to look over at the girl traveler. 

Hermes smiled to himself, haven seen that look in a young man’s eyes more times than he could count.

He set his empty mug down gently and gestured for Orpheus. “You wanna talk to her?” He couldn’t keep a laugh out of his voice when he jumped the slightest bit.

A blush immediately rose to the boy’s face as he pulled at the bottom of his apron. His eyes were wide with wonder and sheer fascination behind his choppy brown bangs. “Yes.” He said breathlessly, gaze not drifting from the girl.

“Go on, then. Ain’t no point in not trying, eh?” Hermes knew that Orpheus was too old now to spent all his days with him. At nineteen, the boy needed someone young, someone kind who could understand him and love him and spend their life with him, all of which Hermes knew he couldn’t provide himself. Orpheus needed to love and be loved.

“No point in not trying,” The boy repeated softly, visibly psyching himself up. With a nod he surged forwards, making it a whole three steps before turning around. He disappeared into the back room and for a second Hermes thought the he had lost his nerve. But, not a minute later, Orpheus came back out, a crudely-made paper flower clutched in his hand. On his way passing the bar, Hermes caught his wrist.

“Orpheus.”

“Yes?”

“You don’t come on too strong, alright?”

Orpheus nodded, but Hermes knew his words would do nothing to deter the boy.

\--

Eurydice’s first impression of Orpheus was, in fact, that he had come on too strong. She had been hesitant, too. In the end, though, it was the flowers that won her over. The first one was quite pitiful, she’d have to admit. But it warmed her heart that a stranger had taken the time to make something for her when no one else had. Eurydice had never before received a gift without a catch.

The second flower was more of a shock. It had come out of nowhere yet still felt light and real in the palm of her hand. Even weeks after she had fallen for Orpheus, Eurydice would still find a red flower or two along the railroad line where they walked.

They were beautiful, quite frankly, with their blood red petals and vivid green stems. Once spring came she and Orpheus would spend hours in fields of flowers simply being, with no worries to cloud their thoughts. The skies were blue and the fields were bright and the birds chirped their songs of praise.

Orpheus was weaving a flower crown for her (one already lay on his head) while Eurydice rested her head on his lap. A pile of freshly picked lilies and poppies were at her side. Her fingers drifted mindlessly through the lush green grass, the soft tickling of the blades reminding her of the joys of summer.

“You almost done, lover?” She asked, squinting against the bright sun.

Orpheus leaned forwards. “Almost.”

Eurydice propped herself onto her elbows and planted a feathery kiss on his lips.

“Hey, that’s not fair you can’t distract me when I’m working!” He protested, though in a matter of seconds he was leaning into her.

“Oh, shut up.”

“Give me a minute to finish this,” Orpheus said. “Then you can have me to yourself.”

Eurydice snorted. “Alright then.” She turned on her side and toyed with the end of his suspenders. Eurydice was always saying that he should change something about his outfit every once in a while during the summer but Orpheus often refused. He’d say that he didn’t see the harm in wearing the same pants or the same type of shirt when they did their job of keeping him warm. Besides, according to him some clothes were too uncomfortable to wear.

The young couple continued to soak in the sun for some time, and, once Orpheus was done with her crown (which Eurydice had to admit was done splendidly) he joined her at her side. A light breeze gave just enough chill for them to relish the cold. Eurydice rested her head on his chest and Orpheus fingered the loose strands of her hair mindlessly.

Despite the happy situation, Eurydice couldn’t help but think. The way she thought was different, sometimes. Sometimes an idea would never leave her head for weeks on end, settling in with a dreadful feeling in the pit of her stomach. Usually, she’d ignore it and continue on with her day. This time, though: this time felt different.

Never before had a question so striking wander its way into her thoughts. Never before had she thought _us_ instead of _me_. Never before had she ever needed to take care of someone or worry about their wellbeing. Never before had she ever felt so. . . complete.

“When winter comes, we’ll still be together, right?” She couldn’t help but find herself asking. Eurydice hated the fact that she was scared of being alone. She’d faced time and tide on her own and yet she couldn’t possibly imagine doing it without Orpheus this season. She didn’t want to be on her own anymore.

Orpheus didn’t open his eyes, but a soft smile graced his lips. “Of course we will.”

Eurydice sat up. “No.” She looked him in the eye and put an edge to her voice. “I want you to promise me. Say that we’ll stay together. That the wind won’t ever change and we’ll be happy. Say that- Say that it’ll always be like this.”

Orpheus’s eyes shone from under his choppy haircut and he looked pretty with the flower crown perched atop his head. But, when he spoke, he was nothing but serious. “I promise, Eurydice. I promise you fair skies above, kind roads below. I’ll walk with you till the ends of the Earth and back because I love you.”

She nodded and sat back down. “Thank you.”

They drifted back into a comfortable silence.

\--

Eurydice stared gloomily out the window of her and Orpheus’ small house. Though vibrant array of yellows and reds and oranges of the summer sunset set of a joyous mood, she was feeling none of it. Indeed, it was almost eight thirty and Orpheus was not yet home.

It wasn’t uncommon for him to pull longer hours than usual; it just came with the job at least, he never failed to tell her when he’d be coming home late. The bar closed when the last patron was done, no sooner. But Eurydice couldn’t help but long for the sweet embrace of her lover.

She sighed and turned her attention to the kitchen table and its contents. The table was an old thing, and must have been quite a sight when it was new. Now, though, the sky blue paint across the surface was worn and chipped and a little worse for wear. Brown wood shown underneath, and even that had faults. A small set of dirty dishes lay stacked near the edge. Along the way she tied her hair back with her yellow bandana, lest not to get her hair in the way.

Eurydice decided that it was best to get something done instead of moping about her husband staying in later for work. So, she washed the dishes from the pump outside and placed them into the singular cabinet that also served as a pantry. A loaf of bread, two cans of soup, and a cluster of assorted vegetables were all that kept the plates and utensils company. 

The small amount of food seemed to be taunting her. It was hardly enough to feed one person for a few weeks, let alone two. Before Eurydice could let her thoughts scream with worry, she slammed the cabinet shut with a bang. The noise echoed in the room.

She worked for another few hours, trying to keep her mind off Orpheus. Eurydice made the bed, swept the floor, and put there few sets of cloths neatly in a crate so it wouldn’t be in the way. At half past ten she looked out the window into the pitch black. If her husband wouldn’t be back for some time, she may as well meet him at the bar.

Grabbing her shoes and tying them with care (as not to break the threadbare laces), Eurydice was out the door and onto the railroad track in a matter of minutes.

Tonight was one of the nights were the air was still and warm. Not too hot, not too cold. The gravel beneath her feat gave little warning to her presence- Eurydice was an expert at walking quietly, so much so that it was hard not to do.

It seemed that, throughout her life, the railroad line had been one constant. She had learned to follow it from a young age, traveling from town to town without losing direction. The lines weaved through hills and mountains, plains and forests. It was the only uniform thing in a world like this. 

Barely twenty minutes later she reached her destination. A lone lantern hung from a pole by the front, something that Eurydice had always wondered the purpose of. Nobody in the right mind would waste precious gas burning throughout the night. That is, nobody except Hermes. With the lightest touch Eurydice grasped the slim doorknob and entered the bar.

The floors were swept and the chairs stacked, lights dimmed despite the late night hour. Orpheus had his back turned to her no too far off, perhaps wiping down a table- she couldn’t tell.

“Sorry to disappoint but the bar’s closed,” He said warily.

A smile made its way to Eurydice’s face. “Oh is it now?” She said, wrapping her arms around his slim waste and standing on her tiptoes.

Orpheus turned around and gently placed a kiss on the top of her head, a customary greeting of his. The girl fought back a giggle and adjusted her position so she was an arms’ length away, holding his hands. It was one of her favorite parts of Orpheus. His hands were gentle and steady, very much unlike the hands of other men she’d held.

Eurydice still marveled at how she had found a man as gentle and loving as Orpheus.

“What’re you doing here? I thought you were back home.”

“I got tired of waiting,” Eurydice replied. “Besides, you didn’t tell me you were working late.”

He looked down. “I’m sorry. Got carried away.”

She didn’t have to ask what his distraction had been, for she already knew. Ever since Persephone had come Up Top a month back, Orpheus had been putting more time and effort into his song with each coming day. Eurydice knew that he was doing it to bring spring back but sometimes. . . sometimes she just felt so _alone_ without him. Like he’d leave her any second.

“Well, we’re together now.” 

Orpheus’ hand drifted to her waist, and hers to his shoulder. Their hands were held at their sides. The two of them began swaying back and forth to the steps of a soundless song. Eurydice rest her head on his chest and focused on the steady beat of his heart as the slowly weaved their way around tables and chairs. The bar was quiet and Hermes wasn’t yet back from Persephone’s house. Outside, a gentle breeze could be heard by the rustling of leaves.

“Sing a song for me?” She asked, looking up to meet his eyes hazel eyes as they held each other by the main counter.

“Of course, lover,” Orpheus smiled and began to hum a simple tune, timing it with the stepping of their feet. Neither knew how to dance properly, but the couple made do. They always did. They swayed and they hummed and they danced. His dishrag lay forgotten on a table, unbothered and untouched in this perfect, beautiful moment.

Eurydice didn’t know how long they danced, simply that they did. Time seemed fluid in instances like this, where the Earth stopped spinning and not a care in the world came to pass. It just simply was.

“You know what?” Orpheus asked once he had finished his song.

“What?”

“I’ve always gotcha. No matter what comes our way, we’ll still be together.” He kissed her on the tip of her nose.

Eurydice laughed. “Hermes was right. You really do have the heart of a poet.” Pulling herself onto her tiptoes and wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him, relishing his familiar scent of leather and earth. “I love you too. Forever and always.”

“Forever and always,” He repeated, a smile in his voice.

They touched foreheads and swayed.

\--

Some weeks later she was awoken by a distant shuffling- no doubt from the next room over. It was a subtle noise, one of gently movement and quiet being. Immediately though, Eurydice’s hands clenched into fists and she slowed her breathing. Her eyes snapped open. A primal instinct from the depths of her being told her to stay still, don’t get caught. Caught means trouble. Caught means harm. 

For a moment she didn’t move an inch, focusing on taking in her surroundings. A lyre in the corner, the few clothes she and Orpheus owned strewn haphazardly around the floor. She was home. She was in bed. She was safe. Gradually, the panic was replaced with curiosity. Who was milling about the main room?

The window to her side was pitch black, stars twinkling and a waxing moon covering the outside with an eerie glow. A shiver went down Eurydice’s spine when her feat touched the cold paneling of the wooden floors. Even in the final days of summer the whispers of winter still persisted. She fought a yawn and padded over to the doorway where the main room was dimly lit with a gas lamp.

“Orpheus?” The girl asked quietly, noticing her lover rummaging for something in the small cabinet they owned. “Whatcha doing up?” Now, at this point Eurydice was well aware of the strange. . . quirks her husband maintained. Often he’d stop listening or focus so intently on a single task that he wouldn’t notice the outside world. Other times he’d talk rapidly yet hesitantly while he’d bounce on his toes or have his hands flutter at his sides like butterflies. This seemed to be one of those moments.

Orpheus said, “I can’t find it.” while shutting the cabinet abruptly. 

“Find what?” 

“My. . .” He took a moment and his brow furrowed. “My bandanna.” His voice was weary and he looked distraught, almost on the verge of pacing.

Eurydice didn’t have the slightest idea of what to do. She had talked with Hermes about how Orpheus acted sometimes, but this was something she’d never encountered before. With a gentle touch to her voice, she said, “We can just find it in the morning. Come back to bed. We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.” She stepped forwards, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. It was almost two in the morning.

Orpheus shook his head repeatedly. “I _can’t_ lose it. I need to find it.” His hands were pulling at the fabric of his pants and he looked near to hysteria. “I need to find it.” The boy repeated the words over and over like a mantra.

Eurydice went over and moved to touch his arm, but he leaned away. She bit her lip. “If we find it will you go back to sleep?” Eurydice saw him nod, shoulders hunched, hands fluttering at his sides. “Alright then.”

Taking a deep breath to calm her thoughts, she set out searching. One step at a time, she thought to herself. One step at a time. Eurydice checked under the bed, in the cushions of the dilapidated couch, and behind the door to the bedroom. Luckily, the house was small and there wasn’t much ground to cover.

All the while she kept an eye on Orpheus to see how he was doing. He seemed to have calmed down the slightest bit with her help but still appeared to be on edge. Her heart ached for him. Eurydice wanted nothing more than to take him up in her arms until their hearts synched and sleep calmed their raging minds. She wanted nothing more for them than to be okay. How cruel the world must be, she thought, to give challenge after challenge to those who had nothing but.

In the end, she found the bandana tucked away under a pile of clothes. Orpheus fingered it lightly when she handed it to him, as if it was the rarest of artifacts and should be guarded closely. A sigh of relief ghosted his lips and he sat down on the bed, exhausted from the midnight search. Eurydice joined him, and he rested his head on her shoulder. It was a soft moment, one of the rare ones where she played the protector and he the weary.

Still, even after a few minutes, Orpheus was rocking back and forth clutching the bandana to his chest. Eurydice let him, placing a comforting arm around his shoulder and giving him time.

“Thank you,” Orpheus murmured, so quiet that she barely caught it.

She placed a gentle kiss on his hair and squeezed his shoulder. “Let’s go to bed now, lover.” The girl swung her legs onto the mattress and fixed the raggedy bundle of mismatched blankets and pillows. “Orpheus?”

“Yeah,” He said. Dragging a hand across his face he took a moment to look at the dingy bandana in his hand. Then, instead of tying it around his neck like Eurydice thought he would, Orpheus wrapped it around his wrist. After a moment he lay down beside her, body still tense.

“I’m sorry,” He said, not meeting her eyes.

The room was quiet except for the distant ribbit of a frog outside and the faint buzz of a gnat. The sounds of summer. She rolled on her side to face him, head resting on her arm. “What for?”

“For being. . . different.” Orpheus shook his head against the pillow and focused his gaze on the bandana around his wrist. “You don’t have to stay, you know. If it’s. . . too hard.”

Eurydice placed a hand on his cheek and smiled gently. It was true that he was different, but she was willing to love him no matter what. So what if Orpheus saw the world in a different light? It made no difference to her. He was still the brilliant poet with the paper flower she’d fallen in love with. “I won’t ever leave you because I love you. Just the way you are.” 

Sure, sometimes things would get hard. Sometimes things wouldn’t turn out the way they were supposed to. Sometimes there were setbacks and problems and bad days. But sometimes there were also good moments and everlasting promises. Sometimes there were carefree laughs and mindless chatter.

Sometimes there was hope. 

Eurydice knew that Orpheus was different. She knew that he was strange, as others might say. Touched. Peculiar. Weird. But, as she thought of his easy smile and loving eyes, she realized that those facts just made him more perfect. Those facts just made her love him more.

The two of them fell asleep at the same time, with Orpheus’ head resting on her chest and Eurydice combing her fingers through his bedraggled hair. The two of them were learning, and that was okay. They still had their whole lives ahead of them- neither where over the age of twenty-two. Yes, without a doubt worries and troubles would sneak their way into their daily lives, but now they had each other. And that was enough.

\--

With each coming month the days grew shorter and the nights colder. The peppy air of the bar seemed to dissipate to a gentle, continues hum as men and women alike began to prepare for the long weeks ahead. Food was stored, clothes patched, and shoes mended. The day that the wind howled bitterly, Tim reaped the last of his harvest and everyone knew that winter had arrived.

The first month was always the easiest. Even though it went from boiling hot to freezing cold, bellies were still full and fires remain lit. The bar was selling off the last of its spirits.

To Eurydice, there was no beauty in winter. Some liked the way that snow looked or how the cold faded away after stepping into a war building. To her, snow meant cold creeping into every nook and cranny. Through her years of experience, she knew that if your jacket got wet or your shoes snowy they were practically useless. After all, how could you dry a dripping shirt when all you had was the wind howling at your back and the snow falling in slanted downpours?

As soon as they could she and Orpheus prepared their house for the months ahead. Every scrap of fabric they could find was sewn together in rags or kept to patch clothes. The rags they made were then stuffed into the gap under the door and the crack that marred the wall across from their bed. Every few days they had to be replaced and dried by the fire. Food was canned and preserved, too. They would last longer that way.

Despite the oncoming threat of winter, the couple still had their down time. Eurydice would curl up on the couch with one of Hermes’ tattered books and Orpheus would sit at her feet, playing the lyre. The stove would be burning and worries of supper were mere whispers in the backs of their minds.

Every so often Orpheus would ask for her opinion on a part of his song or for her to read aloud while he played. The few evenings they shared passed by in gentle, peaceful medleys of conversation and notes.

One day, after a long night at the bar, the two lovers sat in their usual spots by the stove. Eurydice was reading her book aloud while Orpheus tuned his lyre (it was very old and often needed repairs). Her free hand was playing with his choppy hair, the other resting the book on her stomach.

“ ‘And so the little girl asked the man, ‘Where have all the pretty flowers gone?’ The colors were gone and the dirt was fresh. He rubbed his worn hands and replied, ‘My child, they are away for the while, brightening the days of those without hope.’ She paused and looked upon the now barren garden, once filled row upon row of lilies and poppies and lavender, eyes wide.” Eurydice turned the page and continued, “A single rose lay at the girl’s feet. ‘Do you need a flower too, good sir?’ The man said, ‘Everyone does my dear. Not a day goes by without despair, but not a day goes by without love.’ ” 

The soft crackling of the fire filled the room as Orpheus hummed and leaned into Eurydice’s hand. His hair was falling in front of his face again, she noted with half a mind. “Do you want children, my love?”

“I don’t know,” Eurydice said quietly, closing the book and setting it down at the foot of the couch. She turned onto her side and faced Orpheus. “Do you?”

She knew they were both thinking the same thing: children meant that you had more mouths to feed, more things to worry about. Sometimes they were abandoned, other times they were left for dead on the street. If she ever brought new life into the world, she’d want her child to grow up in a comforting and loving environment, not a harsh and cruel one like the area around them.

He sat for a moment, thinking. “I’ve never really thought of it, to be honest.”

“But do you though?”

Orpheus met her eyes for a brief, flashing moment before looking back down at his lyre. Oh, how Eurydice could get lost in those eyes. They were dripping pools of milk and honey, so filled with love and honesty and compassion. “If a child does come unplanned, I’d still love them and care for them with all my heart. Even though things would get harder, we’d be together and whole. That’s what matters most, I think.”

A sudden wave of emotion overcame Eurydice and she sniffled quietly despite the loving smile on her face. She hurriedly wiped away a tear.

He looked up. “Was it something I said, lover? ‘Cause we don’t have to if you don’t want-”

Eurydice shook her head. “No, no. You did just fine. It’s just-” She laughed and smiled down at her husband. “I can’t believe how lucky I am to have found you. No one else I’d been with has cared for my say in a matter like that.”

“Forever and always,” Orpheus murmured, recalling their midnight dance many months ago.

The gentle crackling of the stove filled the room along with the sounds of their even breaths. Wind was howling, but neither of them could hear it. Eurydice looked at this boy, one in a million, and wiped her tears before saying, “Forever and always, lover.”

\--

“Forever and always,” Eurydice murmured quietly, looking down at the two coins resting on the flat of her palm. There was no light to reflect off them, she noticed in the back of her mind. The coins were odd things, constantly staying cold no matter how long she held them or put them in her pocket. She clenched the ancient metal in her hand, ignoring the biting feeling it gave her.

All around the girl, the wind howled relentlessly in her ears. Snow spun and swirled as she and Hermes stood by the old, dilapidated train station. Snow encrusted the soles of her boots.

“He’ll be devastated, you know,” Hermes said quietly, his arms crossed and his gaze set on the railroad tracks in the distance. “Is there any way I can convince you not to go?” 

Eurydice shook her head and defiantly clenched her jaw, lest her lips start shaking. She pushed down her emotions, something she hadn’t done since before she had met Orpheus.

Orpheus. The name rattled in the back of her mind, hoping, begging, to be set free. Orpheus wouldn’t leave the moments times got hard. Orpheus would stick it through, Orpheus would find a new solution.

The thing was though, Orpheus wasn’t here. 

He hadn’t been for quite some time now. All day and all night he’d be working on the stupid song of his, making it to bed in the wee hours of the night and rising before Eurydice had a chance to open her eyes. He’d sit at the bar or at home pouring over his pad of paper for hours, scribbling and writing, then crossing out and scribbling and writing again. 

Yes, she knew that he was trying to help. She knew that he was working to make a better life for them in the future- the problem was that Orpheus had no eyes for the present. Like always he didn’t notice the world around him, didn’t notice the finer details of their life. He had barely batted an eye when Eurydice cut back on market spending, or when she’d decided to stay home instead of paying for a few drinks at the bar. 

Maybe, she thought, maybe this would all be different if Orpheus wasn’t the way he was. 

Then again, maybe it would be exactly the same.

“No chance at changing my mind. It’ll be better this way for the both of us.” Eurydice knew that she was trying to convince herself with each word but pushed every thought of doubt to the back of her mind: there was not time for that now. Her staying would do nothing. Orpheus would continue to work on his song. Maybe he’d even work harder with her out of the way. “I need to go now. Please.”

Hermes, the wise, old man, sadly held out his hand. “If that’s what you really want. . .”

Her heart beat an even tattoo in her chest. “It is.”

Two coins fell into his weathered hand. 

A train arrived, a whistle blew, and a girl stepped on.

\--

Each night, when all the lights went out, the girl would dream of loving hazel eyes and the softest of smiles. She’d dream of light brown hair and the comfort of an arm around her, the feeling of hope resting deep in the pits of her stomach. She could feel the sunshine, the warmth, the gentle wind like fingers running through her short hair. She’d turn to her lover, the man she adores, and smile and-

And she’d wake up.

Consistently, without fail, the girl would always wake up before the end of the dream. The morning bell was harsh and noisy, always ringing a bit longer than it should so it would leave its mark in one’s ears. 

It hadn’t taken long for her to get used to work like this. At least, that’s what she thought. Truthfully she didn’t know how long she’d been down in the mines. A week. A month. A year. Time never seemed to be of any difference here. Here, the only times that mattered was the work bell and lights out.

“Hurry up then,” One worker muttered under his breath while shouldering one strap of his ragged suspenders. 

The girl nodded and put on her own overalls, somehow already worn despite her short stay. The boots were clunky and a few sizes too big for her feet but at this point she didn’t care. Indeed, it seemed like she didn’t care about anything at all these days.

Smoke poured in the moment the workers poured out of the sleeping quarters. It was a decently sized building lined floor to ceiling with rows and rows of bunks. Clothes were always hung at a post, boots neatly tucked underneath. Now, nothing could be heard but the shuffling of dozens of feet on the rugged wooden floor.

They got their pickaxes next. Others went to the automobile factory, but that was a job reserved for the privileged. The tools they used in the mines were a grim reflection of themselves: worn and battered but still useful.

Something caught the girl’s eye when she went to grab her pickaxe. Something. . . different. A flash of a color- not the dirty ones she usually saw, but something bright. Something familiar. Something—before she had time to fully see what it was, she was shoved aside and into the mining elevator.

She pushed her way to the front, determined to see what it had been- after all the girl hadn’t seen color like that in. . . she didn’t know how long at this point. Her time here down in Hadestown had felt like a blur. It felt like a strange fever dream that no matter how hard she tried to wake up it was always impossible. 

Someone’s elbow collided with her cheekbone as she pushed and shoved. A shout here, a shove there. The girl was small but it helped to her advantage. Ducking under a tall man’s arm, she cast her eyes on the bright color she’d seen. Only. . . it wasn’t just a color. It was a man- no, a boy- beaten and tired, but still standing.

Choppy brown hair.

Loving hazel eyes.

The softest smile.

Her heart thudded in her chest like the ringing of a pickaxe. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She wanted to run to him, to feel his arms around her, to feel his breath on her cheek, to feel _alive_ once more—

He approached her slowly, as if in some sort of trance. She couldn’t help but notice the slight limp in his leg, the tired drag of his feet. The wispy smile across his face. No matter what the case, it was him. It was Orpheus.

She didn’t realize she’d been walking forwards until they met halfway, in the town center of Hadestown. Tears came to her eyes, but for the first time in months, they were tears of joy.

“Come home with me?” The poet asked his lover.

“Orpheus,” was all that Eurydice could muster, her emotions overcoming her as she jumped into his arms. She ran her hands up and down his arms just to make sure he was really here. They embraced, and Eurydice took a moment to remember savor the familiar smell of leather and earth and the way his hands felt in her hair. After some time though, they pulled apart and she took in the sight of her husband. “How’d you get here? Oh, Orpheus, please tell me it wasn’t on the train! You won’t be able to go back up-“

“I walked,” He interrupted, hands open at his sides now. “A long way.” 

“You shouldn’t have.”

“But I did,” Orpheus said quietly. “I did. Now we can go!” His voice grew more and more enthusiastic with each word. “I can bring us home and we can go back Up Top. We can get away from Hadestown and- and- we can go back to living. Start a family—”

The breath left her through as if she had been punched. “We can’t.” Eurydice gestured to the rusted lights hanging from the cavernous ceiling above. There were no exits here, not escapes. Here, there were no ways out and she knew this because she had _tried _. “Believe me, lover, there is nothing in the world that I want more than to be with you. To be safe in your arms. . .” She squeezed her eyes shut to prevent the escape of gentle tears. “But you don’t understand.” Nobody ever left Hadestown. It was unheard of. Forbidden. Only the gods had permission to leave. And who was she, a mere mortal to tempt fate and yearn for what could not be reached?__

____

__Before she could continue, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. It was quiet all around them, and, from all of her experience, it was never quiet Down Below. Something deep inside of Eurydice told her that something was wrong. Something was off.__

____

____

__She pulled away from her lover._ _

__“Eurydice, what’s—“ Orpheus stopped short when he noticed the ring of people surrounding them, peering at the lovers with empty, lost eyes. Their tools lay limp at their sides and whispers traveled among the workers. He slid his hand into hers instinctively, taking some comfort in their contact.__

____

____

__It was so silent that Eurydice swore she could hear a pin drop. Not even the scheduled work bell rang._ _

__Slowly, ever so slowly, the circle parted. Heels clicked on the rough cobblestone, rhythmic and foreboding and so, so, quiet. Eurydice’s breath caught in her throat as the man approached. He was wearing fine pinstripe vest and pants and his shoes were made of snake skin. A cold air surrounded him and all was silent._ _

__“Young man. . . “ The lord of the underworld began in his deep, authoritarian voice._ _

__Orpheus tensed at Eurydice’s side and moved to stand in front of her, but she stopped him. If they were to face Hades himself, then they would face him together. She squeezed his hand tightly as reassurance, but he didn’t seem to be paying attention to it. The boy’s eyes were focused solely on the man before him._ _

__“I don’t know who you are, son. And, quite frankly, I don’t care. The thing is, this is my town, and you don’t belong.” The man glanced at his workers almost lazily and crossed his arms. “So, son, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”_ _

__“Hades!” Persephone came up from behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. Eurydice could tell that she was tipsy in the least, if her stance and flush on her cheekbones had anything to say about it. All the time she had known the women she’d never been anything but carefree and joyful. Now, though, Persephone seemed to be a completely different person. Unfiltered rage burned bright in her eyes as she stared down her husband. “I know this boy.”_ _

__“What is he? Unemployed?” It was a rhetorical question, one filled with annoyance and sarcasm. Persephone answered it anyways._ _

__“His name is Orpheus and—”_ _

__“Stay out of this,” He spit back, casting a hand in Persephone’s direction._ _

__“Just leave me, lover,” Eurydice said quietly, heart breaking with as each word escaped her lips. She knew that if he stayed he’d be punished, and, as much as she wanted to Orpheus to be with her, she’d rather him be safe. Tears threatened to spill once more, but this time they weren’t out of joy. “Orpheus, please. Just go.”_ _

__And Orpheus, Eurydice’s sweet, loving, determined husband, let go of her hand and stepped forwards. For one, terrifying moment, she really did think he would leave. Instead, he planted his feet on the ground and clutched the strap of his lyre defiantly. The boy’s eyes flicked up to Hades’ and for once stayed there. When he spoke, his voice sounded with the courage of a thousand men._ _

__"I’m not leaving.”_ _

__Hades raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “I'm sorry?"_ _

__“I said no. I came to take her home.” He gestured to Eurydice. “And that's exactly what I'm going to do."_ _

__A deep, mocking laugh rose from the pits of Hades’ chest, filling the area around them. Eurydice’s skin crawled. “Oh, you stupid boy. You couldn’t take her home even if you wanted to. She belongs to me now.”_ _

__Orpheus staggered as if he had been shot. Ever so slowly he turned to her with heartbreak in his beautiful hazel eyes. “He’s lying. I can’t be true. It can’t—” His hands were back against his sides, fluttering at his sides. Eurydice tried to reach for him but stopped herself, instead backing up a few steps._ _

__She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. “I’m sorry,” Eurydice managed to choke out._ _

__Really, she was. Oh God, how sorry she was. The girl wanted nothing more than to reverse what she’d done. To be back Up Top with the man she loved. She wanted nothing more than to take the heartbreak from his eyes and set things right, to fix her wrongs, to have everything be _okay_._ _

__“I’d like you to all learn a lesson from this.” Hades held his chin up high, eyes trailing from one worker to another with each haunting word. “Trespassers aren’t allowed. And those who come will have. . . consequences.” He flicked his hand in their direction and walked off. Not bothering to turn around._ _

__The circle around them grew tighter. Workers, with their empty eyes and blank faces, surged forwards until it felt like Eurydice couldn’t breathe. Never had she seen this side of them before. The workers here were docile, defeated. Now, much unlike themselves, they looked angry and feisty. Their skinny frames held unruly amounts of rage and their arms, muscled from swinging pickaxes down in the mines, looked ready to recoil at any moment._ _

__Before she could even glance at Orpheus, strong hands grappled at her waist and for a terrible, fleeting second, Eurydice was only a scared young girl Up Top—trying to get food, to get money, to get warm. She struggled like a wild animal to get as tears mingled with sweat and blood. Spitting and cursing, she screamed out her lover’s name as the circle descended upon him._ _

__“Orpheus!”_ _

__Her pleads fell upon deaf ears._ _

__\--_ _

__The god of the underworld didn’t think much about the poor poet boy when he had arrived. From the very start Hades had decided that he couldn’t be much of a threat. He wasn’t much too look at to begin with if the boy’s lean build, dirty clothes, and hesitant demeanor had anything to say about it. And yet. . .__

 _ _He stared at the red flower that lay in the palm of his hand. So vibrant. So lively._ _

__So dangerous._ _

__All of his workers had come to him in need of something. Whether it food, shelter, or work. And what had he done? He had done nothing but provide them with it. Hades gave them jobs in the mines. He gave them shelter from the violent weather by building a city underground. He’d given them nourishment enough to fill their stomachs and then some._ _

__Everything had been going well. The people worked and he, in return, had his city. Hadestown was the main export of goods—automobiles, oil drums, coal. It gave people reason, gave them a chance. If the city fell, then he would too. Centuries of hard work and tireless planning would crumble like a house of cards because of a boy with a silly song._ _

__Hades clenched his jaw and began to pace the room. For the first time since the place had opened, his city made no sound. No machines were turning, no workers scrambling, no train’s whistling. It was so silent that he could hear his own thoughts, hear the endless ringing of what and what not to do. He could hear each footstep he made, each sigh, each light flickering._ _

__And it was driving him insane._ _

__Hades had little power over what could be done to the boy. It would be easy to wave a hand and deny his leave. In fact, it would be more than easy—it would be effortless. Unfortunately, he had a reputation to uphold. No king could let the lovers go without being called a ruthless tyrant or a heartless creature. No king could do such things without angering his people._ _

__On the other hand, if he did let them leave, he’d be a spineless. Worthless. And Hades, long ago, had promised himself to never bow down to anyone after he had seen what Kronos had done. The very same could happen to him if he wasn’t careful enough._ _

__The blood red flower seemed to glow in his hands as he stared at the token with nothing but pure, unfiltered spite. This is what he had become._ _

__Straightening his spine, Hades tossed the thing dejectedly to the ground._ _

__There was one funny thing that about mankind: they were their own worst enemies._ _

__And such was the case with the boy. If Hades couldn’t stop him himself, then maybe the workings of the fates could._ _

__\--_ _

__And work they did, indeed._ _

__\--_ _

__It was darker than he’d thought it would be. The stars were out. The air was quiet._ _

__The wind was whistling but Orpheus couldn’t hear it. He couldn’t hear anything besides the drumming of his heart and her last words echoing deep in his soul._ _

_It’s you._

_It’s me._

__The boy didn’t stop to rest despite the fact that he knew he should. He knew that he was beaten and bloodied and worse for wear, but that didn’t matter right now. Nothing mattered._ _

__So he took one step. Then another, and another. Orpheus’ lyre dragged behind him but he didn’t care; it wasn’t like he planned on playing it ever again.__

____

____

He longed for tears to come to his eyes, waited for himself to collapse on the ground and wail to the gods, curse their existence and beg to go back down. He didn’t. He couldn’t. It was like he was seeing himself from outside of his body, willing himself to feel the things he knew he should to no avail.

 _ _He kept walking. One step. One breath. One moment._ _

__

__He kept walking until he felt he could walk no more—then kept going._ _

__He followed the railroad line, stumbling and tripping but never stopping._ _

__After gods know how long, a light came up before him. As Orpheus neared, the light became a building, rustic and old, paint peeling and porch nearly in shambles._ _

_”Where are we going, Mama?_

_”We’re gonna visit a friend of mine. So we can stay warm until the rain ends.”_

_His mother’s brown hair whipped across her face. A smile came to her lips as she held his small hand and knocked on the door. Not a second passed before it opened, and a man, dressed in a smart silver suit grinned and said—_

__“Orpheus?”_ _

__He hung his head without response._ _

__“Come inside, boy,” Hermes said, though it was more of an order. The door creaked as he held it open long enough for Orpheus to walk inside, before shutting and locking it._ _

__He had never seen the bar look so miserable. The floors needed a good mopping and the chairs were cracked. One of the windows wouldn’t shut and a bucket lay on a table to catch the dripping of the winter rains. Orpheus stood, hands half-bent at his sides, eyes staring into nothing._ _

__There was a long pause before Hermes asked, “What happened?”_ _

__A million words came to mind at the simple question. Tired. Weak. Hungry._ _

__Defeated._ _

__His hands were shaking as he raked it through his choppy hair. His eyes skittered to and fro, trying to find something to focus on but he just _couldn’t_. As a poet, Orpheus always prided himself on knowing what to say and when. But, as he opened his mouth to tell of the unspeakable thing he had done, no words came out._ _

__“Orpheus. . .”_ _

__“Don’t!” He yelled, chest suddenly rising rapidly as dread began to creep into his being. Orpheus backed up until he hit a wall, the breath escaping his lungs as he pulled at the strap of his lyre. Everything was wrong. Everything was so, so wrong. The lights were to bright, the dripping too loud, his heart too rapid. It felt like the world was going to explode any second now. It felt like the world was spinning too fast, like he was about to get flung off if he wasn’t careful._ _

__He slid down the wall and clamped his eyes shut to block everything out. Each one of his breaths came out as a sharp gasp as he clutched his head, willing everything to just _stop_. All he could feel was the cold, wooden ground beneath him and the neck of his guitar biting into his back. His head hit the wall. Once. Twice. _ _

__“Orpheus, I need you to calm down,” Hermes said, at his side in an instant (when had he gotten there?). They’d both been in this situation before, but it had been years since it had been this bad. The man grabbed his shoulders and shook him slightly. “I need you to calm down.”_ _

__He pushed him away. “She’s gone, Mr. Hermes. She’s gone and it’s all my fault.” Once he started speaking, he couldn’t stop. Words flew from his lips a mile a minute, and he couldn’t stop. “It’s my fault. I turned around and she’s gone. She’s gone, she’s gone, she’s gone and it’s my fault—I turned around and now she’s gone. It’s my fault—”_ _

__“None of it’s your fault, boy. You’re only human.”_ _

__“You- you don’t _understand_. I tried so hard- so hard- not to look. Now everything is ruined. Now I’ll never see her again and it’s all my fault.” _ _

__Orpheus didn’t know how long he cried. It could have been seconds, minutes, hours—it was just too hard to tell. All he knew was that Mr. Hermes stayed at his side the entire time, talking to him in a soft voice until Orpheus had no more tears left to cry._ _

__\--_ _

__“I’m going to go Down Below,” The boy said, so quiet that Hermes hadn’t heard him at first._ _

__It was the next morning, and despite what had happened the previous night, he knew that Orpheus hadn’t gotten much sleep. Dark bags stained his eyelids and he held himself as if he were an old man._ _

__The two were sitting at the bar, which Hermes had closed for the day. Each chair lay upturned on their tables and the windows were shuttered._ _

__“Brother, you can’t go. You won’t survive that trip again and I don’t think Hades will see to you as kind as before,” He replied, though he knew that Orpheus had already made his decision. And when he chose to do something, he always followed through._ _

__“I’ve got to see her again,” he said quietly, eyes cast downwards. “I don’t care how—but I need to see her again even if it’s the last thing I do.”_ _

__Hermes shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “Are you sure about this? What about your life Up Top? Your singing? Your music?”_ _

__“None of that matters now. I wouldn’t sing a single song if that meant I could be with--” Orpheus faltered. “If I could be with Eurydice.”_ _

__“There’s no going back, you know.”_ _

__He paused. “Before all this happened, you asked me if I really wanted to go Down Below and get her.” Something sparked in his eyes. “I said that I’d travel to the end of time to be with her again.”_ _

__Hermes nodded._ _

__“Mr. Hermes, my answer hasn’t changed. I’m going to be with Eurydice. Not even the gods themselves can stop me.”_ _

__The wizened old man nodded once more. As much as he hated to admit it, wasn’t ready to see Orpheus go. He had practically raised the boy for fourteen years, seen him grow, learn, and shine. Hermes knew that he had no power over the decision the boy was going to make. All he wanted for him was to be happy and content. And if that meant traveling to hell to be with the girl he loved. . . then so be it. Yes, he would be sad to see him go- devastated even- but it wasn’t his choice to make._ _

__“Alright,” Hermes said. “Alright.”_ _

__\--_ _

__Not much was to be said when the train arrived. It was simple, really. The whistle blew and its sole passenger stepped on._ _

__Hermes had watched this happen many times, but never in his long life had he seen someone go so confidently, so sure of what was to come. When Orpheus reached the train cart, he cast one last look at the world around him, no doubt taking in the barren trees, the earthy colors, and the gray skies. He caught Hermes’ eye and, for the first time in weeks since coming back Up Top, he nodded and gave a soft smile._ _

__“Thank you. For everything.”_ _

__That was the last time Hermes saw Orpheus._ _

__As he lay his eyes upon the horizon and the train receding in the distance, his eyes caught upon a single red bloom, unusual for a time this deep into the winter. A single tear escaped the corner of the old man’s eye as he thought of all the things he and Orpheus had shared. Something deep in his heart spoke to him at that moment: this was not the end. It was only the beginning._ _

__For centuries after Hermes would tell great stories of The Poet and The Songbird and their unconditional love for one another. And, to each new audience he spoke to, his eyes would always wander up to the lyre hanging above the bar and the red flower tucked eternally in its strings._ _

__True, it was a sad song, but he sang it anyway- not to teach lessons or to entertain: Hermes sung it to tell a love that never dies. He sung it in honor of the man he had raised. He sung it for those who saw the way that the world could be, in spite of the way that it was._ _

__And no matter what happened, no matter how it ended, no matter who he told it to—Hermes promised to sing it again._ _

__He owed it to a friend of his._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT NOTE: I've been trying to get back into the swing of writing (especially Sing of Our Forgotten Dreams ahhh) but it's been hard since I've been having some major anxiety and ocd issues. I'll try as hard as I can to keep writing though because I simply love it. i think for the time being I'll be working on various one shots and short stories just so I won't have to be stressing over publishing a new chapter every three weeks.


	2. Story recommendations?

Hi I'm just wondering if any of ya'll have any story recommendations. 

I'll take main recommendations for:  
-Hadestown  
-Tuck Everlasting  
-Bandstand  
-Newsies  
-Historical topics, though those aren't really fandom-related

I'd also be willing to try anything related to  
-Marvel (comics or films)  
-Star Wars (preferably prequels or original)  
-Les Mis  
-It (book or movie)

Crossovers are more than welcomed.

Though there's no guarantee that I WILL write from your recommendation, I have nothing much to do in quarantine and I've started to get bored since I haven't written much for the last 6 months.

AUs, song fics, dialogue prompts, single scenes: whatever you have to offer, I'll take. They'll most likely end up as one-shots

Thanks and stay safe out there!

-Natalia :)


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